The Dog People

There is a special group of people that live in Venice/Santa Monica that I like to call the "dog people". They are similar to the children of the corn except, as far as I can tell, they don't kill people.

Until I had Cameron I didn't even know that this close-knit population even existed. But, they do. These are the people whose daily schedules are dictated by their pooches and they seem rather protective of their special club.

I walk Cameron every morning at 7am (except weekends when I'm still recovering form the night before) and we generally hit the same route (I know where all the trash cans are so I don't have to carry around a bag of smelly shit with me the whole time). And after the first couple days, I realized that I was seeing the same people and the same dogs almost everyday.

But for the first week, when we'd approach one of the dog people, they would cross the street to avoid us. I double checked to make sure I was walking a miniature marshmallow and not a killer Doberman but, apparently, Cam is scarier looking then I thought. The dog people would greet each other and hang out in groups, just staring at us as we walked by. I think I even saw them do a secret handshake a couple times, but I'm not sure. I felt like I was back in Junior High wearing the imitation Converse sneakers.

But, off we'd trot, telling ourselves that we didn't want to be one of "Them". But, inside, we were dying to be. Finally, this week a gaggle of the female dog people (all with tiny dogs) remained on our side of the street. It was like an old western standoff. We walked closer, not budging this time. No one was crossing the street and we were just eyeballing each other down. As we got closer, the female dog people pulled their midget dogs closer sensing the lust for blood in Cameron's eyes (not). Then it happened. The dogs all started wagging their tails and the circle of dog people opened and I was let in. It was like being invited to sit with the cool kids at lunch. We were IN.

Apparently, there is no dress code with the dog people. They have no quams about wearing their bathrobes, pajama bottoms, curlers, etc. while taking their dogs out. So, I looked a little out of place with my matching workout outfit and designer sunglasses and lipgloss. (HEY! I thought I lived in LA?!) Tomorrow, I am thinking about chucking the workout outfits and just go out in my Carebear pajamas. I don't want the reputation within the dog people circle as the "pretentious one". Hell no. That's not how I want to roll.

Now when we walk, I feel like a diva. I just walk around shouting things like, "Hey girl!" "Hey you!" "Call me, baby!" It's good stuff. I haven't been taught the secret handshake yet, but, to be honest, when you are hanging with a bunch of people whose sole mission is to pick up dog crap, you probably want to keep the physical contact down to a minimum. Just because they dogs smell each other's butts, doesn't mean I'm down with it.

Have you spotted the dog people in your neighborhood? Beware - they are out there.